


Gotta Sneeze, Sir?

by hotnthorny



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:35:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25988329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotnthorny/pseuds/hotnthorny
Summary: Sneezing is a plague, a human disaster. The clones still suffer from it. Fox suffers from two idiots.
Comments: 17
Kudos: 35





	Gotta Sneeze, Sir?

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Yes, yet another dumb drabble of mine, written at 3:30 am no less! 
> 
> This was purely off a crack idea, it became so much more. I had to write it. This is what we're left with. It's not perfect but my 3 am writing never is. Hope you enjoy regardless!

For all the discipline. All the years of flash training. All the years of body conditioning, preparing them for war, there were few things a clone was prepared for war wise.

From a young age, they already knew their way around most blaster types. Knew how to operate, maintain, and effectively fire to take a target. They knew how to maim and dismember, neutralize or eliminate; they were soldiers, born and bred, the best of the best for their purpose.

But for all that discipline. All that training; they were still human-- maybe they weren't considered it, not to the Republic, not to the Separatists, maybe even not to themselves-- but they were. And just like any human, there were the unfortunate, mundane aspects of humanity were something they couldn't prepare for . . .

Sneezing. Sneezing was one of them.

Sneezing, in itself, wasn't a particularly bad thing. Its just a sneeze after all, it happens. What's bad about it?

Well, if you wear a helmet more often than you don't wear it, an up-creeping sneeze can become a rather unfortunate event.

The worst part about sneezing wasn't just the sneezing, no. It was the bucket they adorned. All the air filtration and seals in the galaxy couldn't help you when you had to sneeze.

If you were lucky, gods if you were lucky, and happened to be off shift-- or no one of importance was around to see-- you might have the chance to rip the helmet off in time. If neither luck nor timing were on your side, you'd either be left trying to rid yourself of the feeling, trying to bite back an uncontrollable action so you didn't break posture, and face the reprimand from a senator who only saw you as a decorative figure piece; or you were left with the possiblity have having a rather unsightly mess across the inner side of your visor, to be left until the chance to clean it presented itself.

Neither option was favor of the trooper who was unlucky enough to be faced with that irritating, sorely human action.

Especially, if you happen to have _Di'kut #1_ and _Di'kut #2_ for brothers. The unfortunate aspects of the situation are piling against Fox, and his brothers have given him a bit of a break. That is, till the opportunity so kindly presents itself for someone to take a jab at.

You could always tell when one of them got struck with the urge; the way their helmet involuntarily tilted up just so. For any other, the motion might go unnoticed, but to any other trooper, it was the telltale sign of an incoming sneeze.

So when Thire-- who was working with his two brothers at the time-- noticed Fox's movements pause, and his helmet tilt just so, he rapped the back of his knuckles against Thorn's bicep to grab his attention. Thorn looked up.

Not a word had to be shared between the two to know what the other was thinking; there were times their minds seemed to work in sync, on the same frequency of dumbassery. The slightest of nods were passed, not even a moment after Fox's imminent doom began to build up.

They could tell themselves it'd be Fox's doom anyway.

Now, the professional thing to do here would be to let it go as if nothing happened after all, it was a normal occurrence. That would be the professional thing however, if they were still on duty and where someone coule see them; however, that wasn't the case. Right now, off shift, they'd be anything but professional.

Away from prying eyes, in the confines of his office, Fox could do mostly as he pleased. Which at that moment meant he could remove the bucket he hadn't managed to take off yet. Hands shot up to take the sides of his helmet, popping to suit seal and practically ripping it free.

He was too preoccupied to catch the devious glint in his companions' visors. He was too preoccupied to know what they were about to do.

Helmet still in hand, Fox took in another short inhale, followed by another, his eyes sliding closed as he did so. The tension shown in his face as the feeling built up to near the point of tipping. He would have had the chance to just relieve the breath and irritation, if it weren't for the fact that right as that feeling felt like it would break . . . .

. . . . They shouted in unison.

Fox is used to their shenanigans by now, but in that moment, he wasn't prepared for the outburst from the pair.

He was startled, to say the least.

Seeing their split second decision plan having worked on the commander, the two burst out into a self amused laughter. They wouldn't be laughing long.

Fox slowly realized, as his eyes opened to stare at the roof well over their heads, his features going slack, he no longer had to sneeze. More couldn't, the irritation was still seated in his sinuses, but the immediate urge had been thrown off.

And he was pissed.

Their laughing only lasted a few brief moments before they both stopped abruptly as Fox fixed them both with a glare. There was no helmet to save them from the fire in his eyes.

The entire atmosphere of the room seemed to change, more tense than ever as two visors stared back at the visibly bothered commander. For several moments, nothing occured, and they started to think maybe, just maybe he was putting it on.

They couldn't call his bluff, though, as he spoke in a low tone.

_"Thorn. Thire. What, was that?"_

Neither of them answered immediately, realizing Fox wasn't bluffing.

_"Well?"_ Fox prompts again, leaning forward over the table; that gets their minds moving again. Moving, not quite working.

"Ahh, well, sir. You see . . ." Thire starts off, knowing Thorn will back him up. He doesn't have much choice.

"Well sir, we just thought- we just thought it would be funny-"

"Funny, yeah-"

"We just thought it would be funny to, erm . . . steal . . . a sneeze? Sir?" Thorn's posture, tho rigid, didn't quite give him away, but the nervous chuckle that escaped him did. He's got an accumulated list of bullshittery he's pulled against Fox he's yet to be on the returning end of. Thire might get off, he certainly won't.

"And explain to me why exactly you thought that was a good idea?" Fox kept the pair pinned under his gaze, brows raising in waiting for his answer.

"Because it . . . just did, sir?" Thorn questioned when Thire didn't come up for an answer. It wasn't the answer Fox wanted go hear.

"Mm. Right. Just did, hm?" He's unimpressed.

Thorn and Thire finally share a small glance before their eyes turn back to Fox.

"Who?" It's a simple question. Requires only a short, simple answer: the truth.

"Thorn's idea." Thire says with little to no hesitation.

"It was not! You little--"

"Thorn, enough. Thire dismissed."

"Yes sir!" Thire isn't waiting around to get up and get gone.

"But- sir, please! It was him! He was the one who-" Thorn can try and reason, but it gets him nowhere.

"Thorn, shut it."

"Yes sir . ."

"See you, sir! See you, Thorn." Thire calls back before he's disappearing out the door. Now, don't get him wrong, he will stand to the death with his brothers and fight for them any day, but Fox's wrath isn't something he's ready to face. Not yet. Thorn has delt with it more times anyway.

Once he's gone, two set of eyes meet once more, one still hidden behind a visor, which shows an uncharacteristic unease in it's shine.

_"Now, where were we?"_

Thorn is doomed.

**Author's Note:**

> Its dumb, its stupid, I know, but its the dumb and stupid I love for with these boys. 
> 
> I'll probably fix this up soon, it's almost 4 am, I can't do this right, my writing seems off but maybe that's just 4 am brain for ya.


End file.
